


Aftermath

by CJ_fics



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Felicity-centric, Post 3x09, angst with happy ending, speculation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJ_fics/pseuds/CJ_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does Felicity cope when Oliver dies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

"What are you doing here?"  
  
Ray Palmer’s smile (the crooked, ‘Aww shucks’ smile that charmed and disarmed her less than a week ago now only served to annoy her and make her sad) falters at the look on Felicity’s face and her huffed out question.  
  
"I … uh…" he runs his hand on the back of his head.   
  
_Oliver used to do that,_ Felicity remembers. _Whenever he was confused at himself. It was so charm— Stop!_  
  
"Well?" Felicity holds her arms akimbo on her chest, refusing to move away from her doorway and allow Ray entrance to her home.  
  
"I wanted to speak to about the specs of the suit," he declares, reaching for the back pocket of his suit pants for a folded up paper napkin, "I’ve drawn up some additional ideas to improve the suit—"  
  
He stops when Felicity turns her back on him and moves to close her door.  
  
"Felicity—"  
  
"I told you that I would help you, Ray. And I will. During working hours," she says, "I told you that I will not be at your beck and call. That I will not be available to you at all hours. That I will not be your—"  
  
"Girl," he finishes for her, "You told me that you will not be my girl."  
  
"Yes. Please respect that," she confirms in a low voice.  
  
"I’m just worried about you, Felicity," Ray admits, "I actually didn’t have any ideas that could have not waited until work tomorrow. I just — well, I just wanted to check in on you."  
  
"There’s nothing for you to worry about," Felicity announces, tilting her chin up, "I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Just, please, respect my boundaries."  
  
"What happened to you, Felicity?" he asks in an earnest voice before she could shut the door on him, "A week ago, things were different. With you. Between us. I thought we were … We were heading somewhere. Together."  
  
She closes her eyes for a few seconds, sighs, takes a deep breath, before meeting his eyes, “I suppose I owe you an explanation, Ray.”  
  
She really wishes that she didn’t. These days, she feels like words, which came so naturally to her, were lost to her. She can only speak of work things, of practical things. Words that required her to dig deep into her heart, to explain herself, to express herself, those words were gone. She didn’t have the energy or the will to say any of those words to anyone.  
  
"I don’t need or want an explanation, Felicity. You don’t owe me anything," he insists, shaking his head and reaching his right hand to touch her cheek. When she flinches, he drops his hand back to his side, "I’m asking because I care about you, Felicity. And I know you’re not all right. At all. You have not been for the last few weeks. And I want to be there — _here_ — for you.”  
  
"I have nothing for you, Ray," she responds wistfully, "I have nothing left for you. I never did have anything to give to you. Not really. I belonged to someone else, way before I met you. I was just denying it… I’m sorry."  
  
Ray runs his eyes on Felicity, seeing for the first time what she has been hiding under makeup, her usual bright clothes, her pinned up hair and her fake smiles during her working hours at Palmer Tech. Her pyjamas hung loosely on her frame, which was borderline gaunt. She had dark circles under her eyes. Her recently cut hair, hung limply, uneven ends barely brushing her shoulders.   
  
She looked like the sad shadow of the Felicity Smoak he met barely two months ago. She looked like his insides in the aftermath of Anna’s murder. How he still feels on most days.   
  
Before he could say something more, she forces a smile and musters some pretend energy, “I’ll see you tomorrow at work, all right? Bright and early. I can’t wait to see your new ideas for the suit!”  
  
With that, she closes the door on Ray Palmer.  
  
*****  
  
"Roy! Is everything all right?"  
  
Roy shakes his head and raises his arms in a calming manner towards Felicity, who had rushed from her chair towards him, “No, no, everything’s good, Felicity.”  
  
"Oh," Felicity stops abruptly in her tracks, "I thought… something happened to you and John…"  
  
"Sorry, for coming by without calling first," Roy says sheepishly, wincing to himself.  
  
 _So, like Oliver,_ Felicity muses. _He was never quite aware that he would do this sheepish wince whenever he was embarrassed for his own sake. It was one of the cutest thi— Stop!_  
  
"It’s just that we’ve missed you in the Arro— err.. the foundry," he finishes.  
  
"I told Digg that I’ll work remotely for a while, Roy," she says gently, wrapping her arms around her waist.  
  
"I know," he smiles in understanding, "Doesn’t mean you’re not missed though."  
  
"Roy…"  
  
"Sorry," he sighs.   
  
Then he looks around her office, “Nice digs. I’ve never been to your office before.”  
  
"It’s new," she responds, taking the out he has given her.   
  
"New? Haven’t you been working here for more than two months now? All VP and stuff?" he asks.  
  
"Yeah, I asked for a new office… After— after—" she bites her bottom lip, unable to continue.  
  
"Did Palmer put you in Ol— In CEO office?" Roy asks with scowl.   
  
"It doesn’t matter. I asked for a new one," Felicity says in a firm voice, allowing no further argument. She changes the subject, "What’s up, Roy?"  
  
"Nothing, really. I just missed your face," he says, forcing a smile, "Want to have lunch? Big Belly? You’re buying, of course, seeing as you’re VP and I’m just an assistant manager at a nightclub."  
  
She forces a smile back at him, and walks back to her desk to take her purse from beneath it. “Lunch it is, then?”  
  
During lunch, they keep the conversation light as if tacitly agreeing that some topics were not to be mentioned. Roy told her about his work at Verdant, the new drinks they were concocting, the pretentious antics of the club clientele, how business was doing. Felicity showed him photos of Sara that Digg and Lyla sent her over the last few weeks, documenting the growth and development of the little girl. Roy didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had the same photos on his phone. He knew that Felicity allowed herself little happiness these days, and if gushing over baby Sara’s pictures made her happy, he would allow it.   
  
He had to admit that he was being selfish as well.  Felicity smiling about little Sara — no matter how frayed at the edges her smile was — was a bit of a reprieve from his own grief.  
  
He walks her back to her office at Palmer Technologies. As they enter her private office, she turns to him, “Roy, is … John continuing with your training?”  
  
He looks down and nods, swallowing visibly. _The reprieve is over, it seems._  
  
"Good," she responds in a choked voice, "I don’t want you to die out there."  
  
"I know," he agrees, walking slowly towards her, "I don’t want you to die in here, Felicity."  
  
It’s her turn to look down. She lets out a small sob before covering her mouth with her hand, “I don’t think I have a choice.”  
  
Roy reaches a hand to squeeze her shoulder and nods at her in support and commiseration.   
  
"Maybe we could do lunch sometime again?" she asks tentatively, reaching up to squeeze his hand. She feels horrible for abandoning this boy, and Digg, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be there for them. But she can give him this.   
  
"Anytime, Blondie, anytime," he murmurs before releasing her shoulder and walking out of her office.  
  
——————————————-  
  
"Hey."  
  
Felicity looks up from her checking if she got everything on her grocery list to see Thea Queen — _Thea Merlyn_ , she reminds herself bitterly — standing right in front of her.  
  
Felicity schools her expression into something less bitter, and nods at the young woman who was looking at her tentatively.  
  
 _Her uncomfortable stance is so like Oliver’s_ , Felicity thinks. It’s like because they were grew with all the confidence that came with being Starling City royalty, tentative and uncomfortable were such ill-fitting looks for them.

It reminded her of the first time she met him, as he stood there in her office, with a crap lie about lattes in dangerous coffee shops, and so unsurely that she couldn’t help but want to help him. Coupled with his gorgeous face, that uncertain look on his face and the way he stood, as if he was wishing with all his might that she would let his silly lie go but unable to find a way to offer her a better story, was what disarmed her right from the start.   
  
_He could never really lie to her,_ she remembers. _That was one of the things that was most loveable about— Stop!_  
  
"Thea," she greets, then motions to move her cart forward away from the other woman.  
  
"Felicity," Thea reaches a hand out to stop her, but doesn’t allow for contact to happen.  It was as if she knew she was not allowed, "How have you been? I haven’t seen you in Verdant in a while."  
  
"There’s not been much reason to party," Felicity responds, trying to go for flippant and achieving more bitterness.  
  
Thea takes a good look at Felicity Smoak, a woman who has been in her periphery, a bright presence always at Ollie’s side, for the past two and a half years. She has never seen the other woman look so … colourless. Oh, Felicity was wearing a floral business dress and tall heels, and her hair was pinned up at the back of her head. But she had a brittle feeling about her. Like a smallest wind would knock her over and cause her to crumble. She was rubbing her right thumb on her right middle and forefingers in a way that was familiar to Thea. She’s seen Oliver do that when his emotions were high and he was trying not to show it.  
  
 _This was the woman that her brother loved. And the woman who loved him._  
  
"I’m sorry," Thea whispers, tearfully.  
  
Felicity clenches her jaw and shuts her eyes for a minute. She knows she’s being unfair. She knows Thea is drowning in grief and in guilt over what had happened, and for being the reason for what had happened. But Felicity could barely muster the will to be so generous towards the other woman. Because she holds Thea culpable for her actions, for accepting a mass murdering man back into her and Oliver’s life once again. For being the reason why Oliver— _Stop!_  
  
"I didn’t know," Thea tries to explain, "If Mr. Diggle and Roy didn’t tell me, I would never have known. What I’ve done, what Malcolm —"  
  
"Please, don’t mention that name to me ever," Felicity growls, straightening her spine.

Some days, she was filled with such rage. It was all directed at Malcolm Merlyn, Ra’s Al Ghul and his league. Somehow, some way, she will put a stop to him and ensure that he is served justice, not just for the five hundred three individuals he killed with his earthquake device, but also for what he had plotted to put Oliver in that mountain. Once she learns how to live without a heart, she will gather all her resolve to bring Malcolm Merlyn to justice.

Then she’ll get to Ra’s Al Ghul and his league. Somehow.  
  
"Sorry," Thea murmurs, "I know I’m to blame for all of this. Oliver—"  
  
"Don’t. Please," Felicity warns.   
  
At Thea’s silence, Felicity gathers every little bit of kindness left in her  and reminds herself that although Thea Merlyn had killed a person she considered her friend, she had done so without her knowledge, and that it would be unfair of her to blame Thea for being the reason why Oliver— “He loved you above all else. You were the most important person to him. He wouldn’t have done that for anyone else. I hope you know that.”  
  
"I do," Thea says, choking on her own tears, "I have to live with that for the rest of my life."  
  
"Good," Felicity responds and moves away from the other woman. All generousity for Thea Merlyn gone.  
  
"He loved you, too, you know," Thea claims as Felicity walks away from her.  
  
"I know. And I will live with that for the rest of my life."  
  
Felicity leaves her grocery cart behind and rushes out of the store. _Some other day, then._  
  
——————————————-  
  
"You all right, Felicity?" Barry’s voice sounds so worried over the comms.   
  
He was in Starling City to help the team, what’s left of it, stop a drug shipment at the docks and round up Triad gang members for the SCPD. When they realised that they needed an extra hand for tonight’s mission, she had asked Digg to call on Barry. He had agreed in less than a minute, and was at the lair, ready to help the team out in less time than that.  
  
Felicity had opted to man the operations from her apartment, still unable to step foot in the foundry.  
  
So, so, many memories there. Times when she hacked her way around federal databases as her boys sparred behind her, with her keeping a running commentary (that they mostly ignored and / or chuckled at) about everything and anything. All those times when they argued about what to have for dinner, with her choice always winning (she suspects the guys agreed to let her have her way about their dinner options because they were gentlemen, but argued with her about it every night because… well, they were _boys_ ). So, many memories of the years when she finally found a home, somewhere she belonged, in the company of people she loved and respected. All wiped away by the memory of the last time she was in the foundry.   
  
She had prepared to wait for him, as she always did when they went off out into the field to capture bad guys and keep Starling City safe. She told herself to look at the situation like any other mission. He was going to come back a victor, like he always did in her mind. She had speeches rehearsed to welcome him back. She was going to hit him on the chest for going out to battle Ra’s Al Ghul, then hug him for an hour straight, and then she was going to say his words back to him. She was going to beg him to fight to live, for her, for him, for them. She was going to swallow her pride and ask him to choose her.

She had waited for two nights at the foundry, waiting. Then his bag and his clothes were delivered to the foundry with a message from the League of Assassins arrived to say that Oliver— _Stop!_  
  
"Felicity?"   
  
"I’m here, Barry," she assures him, shaking her thoughts away from her head, "The SCPD is on their way. Capt. Lance just notified me."  
  
"Great! We’ll stay here to make sure no one gets away before the cops get here then," Barry says, "They’re here."  
  
Felicity nods, even though she know he can’t see her.  
  
"You never answered my question, Felicity," Barry murmurs, after a minute or so, "Are you all right?"  
  
"I’m fine," she answers shortly.   
  
Ten seconds later, Barry is standing right in front of her as she sits at her dining table, hood off, “No, you’re not. And you should get better locks.”  
  
She lets out an exasperated breath, “Did SCPD get everyone then?”  
  
He nods, and tilts his head at her.  
  
"What do you want from me, Barry?" she scowls, standing from her chair to head somewhere where she can’t feel his judging judginess.   
  
"I want you to answer me honestly, Felicity!" he exclaims, moving fast (slower than usual) to block her, "I want to know how you are!"  
  
"And I said, I’m fine! I’m good! I go to work every day, bright and early. I do my job at Palmer Technologies perfectly. And after that’s done, I go home and help the team save Starling City. What more does anyone want from me? I’m perfectly fine!"  
  
"You’re not. You’re wasting away, Felicity," Barry says gently, his hands reaching to clutch her upper arms.  
  
She uses a move that Digg taught her to dislodge his hold, “I’m not! I’m okay. And, guess what, Barry Allen? I’m none of your business!”  
  
"Of course, you are, Felicity! I’m your friend," he urges, "And I’m Oliver’s friend, too! Do you think he would be happy with me, if I let you continue to not be okay?"  
  
"Well, that’s a moot point, isn’t it, Barry. He won’t be a happy. He won’t be anything. Because he’s dead! He’s dead! He died! Alone!" With a sob, Felicity runs to her room and locks her door. She had better locks on her bedroom door, Oliver had made sure— _Stop!_  
  
Barry knocks on her door for hours before he gives up, leaving her alone with her tears and her sorrow.  
  
——————————————————-  
  
"Enough. Felicity, enough," John Diggle announces with steel in his voice as she opens her apartment door to him.  
  
"What?" Felicity asks as she steps back to allow him inside.  
  
"It’s been two months, Felicity. Two months!" Diggle exclaims, "This has got to stop."  
  
"What has got to stop—"  
  
"Please, have enough respect for the both of us to not play like you’re dumb, Felicity," Diggle interrupts her with a scoff.  
  
That silences her. She knows why he’s here. She knows that John Diggle is her best friend, and he’s here because he cares for her.   
  
"I know you’re hurting, Felicity," he says in a gentler but no less firm tone, "And we have given you time and space to grieve. But, enough, all right? It’s time to—"  
  
"To what? To move on?" she murmurs, interrupting him. She takes a seat on her couch with a defeated air, "I’m trying, John. I don’t think I can."  
  
"I’m not asking you to move on, Felicity," Digg says sympathetically, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "I don’t think it’s possible for any of us to move on after this. How can we?"  
  
"But what?"  
  
"But maybe it would help, it would lessen the grief, if you started spending time with the people who are grieving right along with you," Digg squeezes her to him, "We’re your friends. We’re your team. Maybe we can help each other lighten our loads. You have to stop isolating yourself, Felicity. It’s not healthy. Or good for you."  
  
She remains unresponsive for a few minutes, her head bowed and her tears flowing down her face.   
  
"He told me he loved me before he left," she starts, sniffling but doing nothing to wipe her tears away.  
  
He nods but doesn’t say anything.  
  
"And I never said it back. Not once. I was planning to, when he came back. But he didn’t. And now there are all of these words stuck in my chest, and I don’t know what to do with them. And these thoughts, going round and round in my head about him dying without ever hearing me say my words to him. Dying thinking that I didn’t— That — I didn’t—" her sobbing stops her words.  
  
"He knew, Felicity," Digg assures her, "A blind and deaf person would know how much you loved Oliver Queen. You gave yourself away every time you dared to look at him. Every time you swallowed your pride, your fear, your sadness, to give him the words that he needed to hear. Every time you smiled at him — no matter how sad those smiles had become. It showed in everything you did, even when you were trying to show him that you weren’t going to wait for him. He knew. Even if you never told him, he knew."  
  
For the next few minutes, there was silence between them as she absorbed his words, and they grieved for their fallen friend and partner, holding on to each other.  
  
Eventually, Felicity chuckles bitterly and sadly, “I was so hellbent in proving to him and to myself that I wasn’t going to wait around on his ‘maybe’s’ that it’s funny that now I’m stuck waiting for nothing. I don’t know what else to do. I’m just waiting.”  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For a miracle. Or to die, eventually. I don’t know."  
  
Digg nods in empathy.  
  
"Waiting is always better in the company of friends," he says.   
  
"I’m not sure I deserve to wait that way," Felicity admits.  
  
"You do, Felicity. We all do," he urges, squeezing her tighter to his chest.   
  
"I’m sorry I abandoned you and Roy," she says, "I know you lost him, too. But I just couldn’t — I can’t—"  
  
"We understand, Felicity. We do," Digg assures her, "And this is not about that. You haven’t really abandoned us. You’re still part of the team. And I know you and Roy have lunch sometimes. And you’ve kept in touch with me and Lyla, asked for Sara’s pictures. It’s just that, I think it would be good for you, and for us, to spend time together. Work together as a real team again. Be real friends again"  
  
She nods.  
  
"Whenever you’re ready, Felicity."  
  
A week later, Felicity shows up in the foundry for the first time in nine weeks.   
  
Digg and Roy don’t make a big deal of her presence, merely squeezing her shoulder and hugging her lightly in greeting.   
  
She avoids looking at the mannequin with the Arrow suit and the green arrow case. She just heads straight for her chair, keeping her eyes on the monitors and the task at hand.  
  
They get to work on saving the city. Their leader might be gone, but their mission remains. It was time to go back to that. Together.  
  
———————————————-  
  
He’s been watching her for almost three hours now. He trailed as she left her work for the day, as she headed for the grocer’s to get food, and as she headed home. He watched her from her apartment windows as she put away her groceries, washed her dishes, made herself a cup of coffee and prepared for an evening at the foundry.  
  
He was waiting for the perfect time to make himself known, unsure about what kind of reception he would get from her, but knowing that her reaction will always be the most important to him.  
  
She looks different. Her hair was much, much shorter than he was used to. Her brown roots showing when she pulled her hair down. He was surprised at the uneven ends that brushed her shoulders. _Did she cut her hair herself?_  
  
She’s gaunt. Gone were the curves he couldn’t keep his eyes from running over before. Her clothes, as bright as always, hung limply around her body. Her collarbones sticking out. Her arms, skinny. _Has she not been eating?_  
  
And her face! Still beautiful. But pale. So, so pale. And sullen. No more easy smiles from his Felicity Smoak.  
  
More than that, gone was confident, peppy stride. She walked with a purpose, defensive, quick, and then hunched over as soon as she thought no one was looking. It’s as if the moment she thought she was alone, all the will to keep upright left her.  
  
 _She was lifeless_ , he realised.  
  
She catches on to his presence as she makes her way back to her car.  
  
"I know you’re there. I have pepper spray, and I can scream very loudly," she says in a steely voice.  
  
He steps behind her, and announces, “Oh, I know how loudly you can scream, Felicity.”  
  
She quickly turns around to face him, eyes wide and hands covering her mouth.  
  
"Hi, Felicity," he smiles tentatively at her, gulping visibly.  
  
"Oliver…?" she mumbles into her hands.  
  
He nods and scratches the back of his head. “I’m sorry it took so long to get home,” he says, wincing.  
  
"You died…" she keeps mumbling. Then she shuts her eyes and shakes her head, "Oh, god. I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. I’m seeing and hearing things! Oh, god. You’re not really here. Oh, god. What’s going on? Oh, god."  
  
He steps closer to her and clutches her wrists in his hands, “It’s me, Felicity.”  
  
She opens her eyes abruptly, and wrenches her wrists from his hands ( _just like Digg taught her_ , he observes), and then proceeds to slap him on the chest. Repeatedly.  
  
"You died! The League of Assassins told us! Ra’s Al Ghul killed you! You died! You died! You died! You were gone!" she screams, loudly.  
  
He grabs the hand that’s been repeatedly slapping his chest gently, then pulls her close to him.   
  
"I did, I died. I was brought back to life. I’ll explain later, okay? I just need to —- _this_ ,” he murmurs in her hair in relief. He’s been traveling for weeks and days upon days for this. To hold her close. To see her again.  
  
Finally, she runs out of steam and goes still, “Oliver?”  
  
He pushes her away, gently and just a few inches from him so he could look at her face, “Yes.”  
  
Then she jumps on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs on his waist. He takes a few steps back to balance himself and her, to remain on his feet. He could feel how light she’s become. Once he steadies them, he realises that she’s got her face, her tear-streaked face, buried in his neck, and she’s whispering his name over and over again.  
  
He closes his eyes and breathes for what feels like the first time after that breath he took as he sighed “I love you” to her. That relieved breath in being able to tell her, under no uncertain terms, how he felt about her.  
  
"Are you really here?" she asks in a small voice, not moving her face from its perch on the spot between his neck and his right shoulder.  
  
"Yes. I can explain—"  
  
"Later," she interrupts, "You can explain later. I have words for you. I’ve been waiting to say them to you. I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to say them ever. Because they’re just for you. No one else."  
  
"What words?"  
  
She moves her head so she can meet his eyes, “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to get these feelings out of the way after 3x09. I apologise for the angst.
> 
> Originally posted here: http://outoftheclosetshipper.tumblr.com/post/104919595723/aftermath


End file.
